Set Me Free
by Cristya Blade
Summary: AU- Rukia feels like a posession wherever she goes and Renji is trapped by class and law. Wanting to be free but being ensnared; contemplating love but being prevented from acting upon it, the two struggle to find freedom with each other. RenjixRukia.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As I was going through notebooks and typing up their contents and recycling them away, I was pleased to find this story lying around. I liked this story when I wrote it and still do, but the problem is that it's an AU and I'm not overly fond of writing those. Also, I was in a bad place when I began it. I'm perfectly fine now, but I wanted to convey the feeling of being trapped by circumstance throughout this whole fic. As such, and since it was an AU, it was very experimental. I only wrote two chapters for it but I do remember where I was going with things, so here I will kindly ask for your input. If people seem interested in the story, I will continue it (expect long periods of time between this posting and the updates to allow me time to write it however). If not much interest is shown, I will let it drop. I'd appreciate your views on it very much. The setting is supposed to be similar to Feudal England but it is set in an AU so it's not exactly the same.

(PS, if interested in IchiHime at all please go vote on the poll on my bio page! PLEASE!)

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><p>Her head hung heavy as she was dragged out of the dim lights of the caravan to stand around a glaring fire. The hand on her arm pulled, rough and insistent, but she didn't care. She allowed herself to be paraded and placed in a line. She was to be presented, inspected. She was to be merchandise for sale. It was all she had become. And she felt nothing about it.<p>

She stared at the ground. She noted, without much thought, that the earth wherever they were was gray and gravelly. She'd lost track of their whereabouts long ago. When you rode every day with no known destination in the end, it didn't matter where you were.

To one side of her she saw a hand hanging. That woman was badly malnourished, but it didn't especially come as a surprise. The bigger surprise would be finding any one of them who wasn't, at least a little bit. The hand was shaking. She didn't know who stood next to her; she didn't even bother to look. In the past, she might have taken that hand. Not now.

To her other side, a woman's feet shifted. She recognized the tensing of the calves. Fool, she was going to run. Surrounded like this there was no way it would work. A few times all of the women had tried running at the same time. In the confusion a couple had actually escaped. But the rest of them paid for it dearly. She'd tried running several times. Before that, she'd even tried fighting her way out. But with no weapons in her possession she couldn't defeat a group of armed men. And when the running, her second option, kept failing again and again, she finally had all of the obstinacy beaten out of her. She had nothing left, neither fight nor flight. Only monotony, only complacency. She hated the beatings but secretly hoped every time that they would end her life. But no, they wouldn't kill their precious merchandise. So all she had left to do was exist.

The girl next to her who had been steadying herself to run finally did so. There was an urge, however slight, to look up and see if she made it. She heard feet pounding, getting farther away. But she also heard men shouting and horses being mounted. She wouldn't make it. An abused woman could not outrun a horse. She flinched as she heard a whip crack and a cry in the distance.

"Raise your head, woman."

A shadow obscured the fire's light. There was a new pair of feet in front of her. A customer. Her body involuntarily stiffened. How had they gotten to her so quickly? Her eyes hadn't even yet adjusted to the bright moon and the fire's light.

"I said raise your head!"

A rough hand grabbed her face and pulled it upwards. She could not see the man in front of her. She didn't need to see him, it didn't matter what he looked like. If he decided to buy her the question from then on would be for what purpose. A farmhand laborer? A maid? A slave? Or something worse? Customers were all out for different kinds of purchases.

"This one can be stubborn, but there's not fight left in her. Found her in the western country. Name's Rukia," a gruff voice behind her said.

She detested her name being used by them. It was all she had left, could her name not still at least belong to her? But no, it couldn't. If she was purchased her buyer could even take her name, making it into whatever he chose. She tried, _tried_ to make herself feel empty inside.

"What common street filth is this," the man spat, "Your selection is pathetic!"

She was grateful to be called street filth, grateful to be cast aside. Her part for tonight was over as she once again got to hang her head. But she heard a sound in the distance. Hoof-beats. _Many_ hoof-beats. Perhaps her part in this night was not over.

Next she heard calls and whinnies. There was shouting and the beginnings of chaos. Men were trying to herd all of the slaves back to the caravan, but there weren't enough men to do it. If she'd thought of it she could have run but her curiosity was peaked for the first time in a long time. She looked up, this time of her own free will. Before her was a vision.

A man, adult yet slim, tall and sleek, rode before her. His armor was white and had the marking for six on it. It shone in the moonlight along with his swinging sword. And, like dark tendrils of night, his hair gleamed with a similar shine of the look in his unphazing eyes. She thought he looked noble, and she was not wrong. It was then that she realized that all around men were fighting, and she was in the midst of it.

"By order of the royal family!" he hollered over the clatter, "These practices will stop!"

Her eyes widened. The monarchs _knew_? They _cared_? How did royalty how about such lowly dealings as this? _But_, she thought bitterly, _how would they have power to actually put a stop to it?_

Her body worked faster than her mind and she began to dodge as men rode dangerously close to her. Women were running. And escaping! This could be her chance too. But she was caught in the middle of the fray. When she found one escape route a horse blocked it, or a blade; and though her small size landed her the fortune of not being in the range of the slicing blows, it also made both horses and the men's feet and knees who rode them extremely dangerous.

Dodging a horse's buck, she was struck from behind and to her horror she fell to the ground. She crawled frantically. Surely she would be trampled. She scrambled this way and that, fearing for her life. She couldn't rise, couldn't escape. Desperate, she hugged her knees to her chest and then tucked an arm around her head as she curled into a ball and waited for it all to be over.

After what seemed like an eternity the chaos lessened. Dust began to settle. She dared to open her eyes, praying that the last thing she saw wouldn't be a horse's hoof bearing down on her. She could see shapes through the dust but couldn't make out much else. They were men. What of the women? Had they escaped? Or been taken back and chained in the caravans?

Feeling the slightest flicker of hope, she knew this was her last chance. Carefully trying not to draw attention to herself, she crawled in a direction that she hoped was away from the caravan. After a moment she saw a boot shining directly in front of her. She swallowed heavily and looked up. It was the pale, dark haired man with the serious, unfeeling eyes; the one that had led the attack. Though right now, those eyes looked extremely surprised. It didn't suit his face, it was as if that look seldom tried to mold itself there.

"Hisana?" he breathed. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head viciously, just once.

"No, you're..."

Rukia wanted to get up, wanted to flee. She knew this man was the cause of her liberation, but watching his eyes on her set off alarm in her mind. And although she didn't feel that he was exactly evil, she wanted to run. These were the circumstances under which she first came face to face with her rescuer.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Renji's chapter is quite a bit different than Rukia's. I'm not sure if the difference in language is bothersome to people, I just like to write how I think people would talk or based on mood... if that makes any sense at all. Also, it has flashbacks for the majority so you know... major difference there. Once again, this fanfic was sort of a bit of an experiment for me, this chapter marks the end of what I had already written. If people show interest I will continue it, if not I will let it drop. Your input would be greatly appreciated.

(PS Go vote in my IchiHime poll if you feel so inclined)

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><p>The red haired man wiped his brow as he felt sweat running off of him. The forge's furnace poured wave after wave of heat out, causing his eyes to narrow, causing his body to tense and glisten. He let out a careful breath as he took his tools to pull the red-hot blade out of the fire and placed it on an anvil to pound into the perfect shape.<p>

Many people called him fortunate, since he had a profession. He laughed at the idea. One fortunate thing had happened to him in his whole life, just _one_. And that was meeting Ikkaku.

Renji hadn't grown up with the trade. He hadn't grown up with anything. He'd been surviving on his own for longer than he could remember, he had no idea who had taken care of him as a small child. He stole and he fought and he slept under the moon. As he got older he tried to take honest jobs, he really did. He helped out on farms and did heavy lifting and labor. But it didn't pay enough and he had to keep stealing just to keep himself fed, until the one day he'd stolen from the wrong man.

_"Yo, that pouch you're walking out with? That's mine."_

_Renji turned to face him instead of fleeing, cocky boy that he had been._

_"Oh yeah baldie? What you gonna do about it?"_

_The fight had been quick and decisive. Before he knew quite what had happened, Renji was lying on his back blearily seeing the same moon he saw every night._

_"Hey kid," he heard from over his body. He braced himself for death._

_"What's your name?"_

_"R-Renji..."_

_The bald headed man peered down at him and smiled a big wicked grin._

_"Good job Renji, you didn't die."_

_Renji tried to move. It was difficult but after a couple of tries he discovered he still could. He sat up painfully._

_"How'd you like to quit stealing?"_

Renji swiped a sweaty strand of his hair out of his face as he carefully finished carving the symbol for six into the blade. He sighed when it came out unmarred and began to put his tools away. He knocked into a beam, sending a shower of dust down upon his already dirty body and looked up to see the old jug of ale still there in the rafters. It was the first and last time he'd had a drink. It was the night Ikkaku had, in a sense, adopted him. First a theft, then a defeat, then a celebratory drink and a dizzying walk around a part of the new town he'd come to that he hadn't visited yet.

_"Yer lookin' a little tipsy there, boy. Aint you ever had a drink?"_

_Renji shook his head, nearly causing himself to fall over._

_"'Bout time I took an apprentice any way. Aint made nothin' in so long, I might be gettin' rusty. Kenpachi wouldn't have none of that."_

_Renji's eyes widened. _The_ Kenpachi? _Zaraki Kenpachi_! Ikkaku had been pissed when Renji hadn't heard of him, but even a slum boy like Renji knew about Kenpachi. Famous swordsman, famous smithy... not necessarily in that order. Rumored to be an undefeatable man. Ikkaku had been taught by him, and taught well._

_"The thing about swords boy," even Ikkaku was beginning to feel the effects of the ale by now as he squinted to see letters on signs, "You don't know how to make 'em unless you use 'em. And you sure don't know how to use 'em worth shit unless you make 'em." He laughed ruefully._

_Renji was filled with awe. Well, awe and alcohol. This night certainly hadn't been a typical one. Stealing one minute and a protegee the next._

_"Ah, this here," Ikkaku slurred. "Madam's. We'll stop here before we go. For..." Ikkaku hiccuped. "Supplies."_

_Renji took in the odd scents and strange looks of the pillows and curtains scattered about the shack. Hearing their entrance, a busty blonde woman scrambled out of the back._

_"Oh, Ikkaku," she began and halted. "You brought me a customer? Wait. Just how old is he?"_

_"Woman, he aint here for that."_

_"Oh," she shook her head forgetfully, "right. Hello boy. Been drinking have we?"_

_"How'd you know?" Renji's lisp was evident._

_"I'm Madame Matsumoto, and I happen to be a fortune teller."_

_Renji attempted to raise an eyebrow skeptically but was uncoordinated enough at the moment to only be able to raise both and ended up looking weirdly astonished instead._

_"Sit down, I'll give you a special reading," she said eagerly as she pulled out some odd looking stones._

_Renji obediently sat, or rather half fell, on a cushion across from her. She shook the stones in her hand and cast them into a bowl._

_"Ooh," she said, a sly smile on her face. "The fates like-"_

_"Lady," Renji pointed a sloppy finger, "if you're about to say the fates like me, you're faker than..." he strived to think of something biting but could only shake his finger in the end to emphasize his point._

_"No, not quite my dear boy." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Always let a fortune teller finish. The fates like to _play_ with you. Your life seems like it'll be quite interesting. Give us a good show."_

_With that final pronouncement she took one of the stones with an intricate design on it and placed it in his hands._

Renji didn't remember when he'd passed out on that night long ago, but he did remember the severe headache he'd had the next day. Ikkaku's ale jug he kept in the rafters served as a reminder of that night, the night his life had changed. And, to a lesser extent, a reminder not to drink.

Renji shut the grate on the furnace which- under the orders of his _almighty_ noble lord- was to be kept lit at all times, _just in case_. He laid himself back on the hay and stared up at the moon through the uncovered window by the roof. It was high and bright and perfectly round. It shone a white, unblemished color. He turned on his side to try to find a more pleasant view but could only see the random dogs wandering in through the gaps between the door and the ground to sleep near the warmth of the forge. Their eyes glowed but it was only a pale and eerie result of the moon's light. Renji turned again, this time facing only the darkness of the back of the building.

Stray dogs and the moon...

_Damn fates._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for waiting patiently for this update, which I wasn't sure was actually going to happen. And an extra thanks to those who reviewed the first two chapters (without which a continuation would NOT have happened!). As I said before updates for this story will be slow, so another probably won't come until the new year, as I have other projects I am working on. Thanks again for your patience and supportive or constructive comments. Have a nice day.

ALSO: I feel the summary I put for this story... well... sucks. Any suggestions would be welcome.

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><p>Rukia stared up at the high ceilings, by far the tallest she'd ever seen. Although they made the room bright and airy there was an unmistakable draft and every noise produced a bothersome echo. Perhaps this grand hall should have given her a sense of awe or amazement, but all she could feel about it was resent for the extravagance of the upper class and a vague sense of displacement that made her either want to be outside where the sky truly was high up or back in one of her old shacks where, though the ceiling would only often be a foot or two above her head, at least she knew where she was.<p>

A stark contrast to the loud echoing of her footsteps, her journey here had been largely silent. Her rescuer seemed shocked upon first meeting her but then issued a few brief commands to some subordinates and went off on his own. His vassals seemed surprised as well, although some attempted slight degrees of geniality towards her. Rukia didn't want their services or protection or food or the scratchy blankets they offered her, she just wanted to leave. When that first vassal had instructed her to follow him, her heart sank. Even though her tongue felt dwindled from misuse she could not idly stand by.

"While I am grateful," her voice scratched and she cleared her throat.

"I'm very grateful to your lord for my rescue," she tried again, "but I don't wish to burden him any further. I can make my own way, uh, by your leave..."

Rukia stumbled over her words. She wasn't a simpleton but she had no experience whatsoever attempting to speak to or even _about_ royalty. And polite speech wasn't exactly her forte.

"I'm sorry lady, the lord hasn't given leave. In fact he asks that you stay as our guest."

Rukia cast a hard sidelong glance to the fields and wondered if she could just run and vanish there. Then again, if they rode after her with horses at night there was a good chance she may be trampled in the high grass. In any case, she had the feeling this invitation was more of an order any way.

"I thank you, but-"

"Lady, I wouldn't," a serious eyed older man said. "Our lord is a generous one but he's not very tolerant." The two men exchanged a look that Rukia was fairly sure she understood.

"Well, uh..." She was struggling. That field wasn't starting to look so bad after all.

"Come now lass, no harm will come to you," the younger of the men attempted to smile. She was sure it was an unconscious movement, but his hand hovered near the sheath of his sword as he extended the invitation to her again. She sighed as she realized she'd been passed from the hands of one armed man to another. And escape was equally impossible here as she dared not disobey a noble who had just rescued her.

During their journey (once again, she was unsure of where she was going) the men became less and less comfortable addressing her. She experienced a decrease of talk to her face and an increase of hushed murmuring whenever she passed a group. Luckily, she'd become used to solitude and at the very least being away from the slave caravan had ignited a small spark of life back into her. Several nights she attempted to run away but each time her plans were foiled by night guards out patrolling. She wondered just how many men the lord was making stay awake to keep intruders out- or herself in. She continued her attempts any way until one night the guard dragged her aside. She struck at him hard, as she originally thought there might be some menacing intent on his part, but he simply rubbed his head and grabbed her arm gently. When he told her desperately to stop trying to run away or the lord would get angry, she saw fear in his eyes. And she believed him.

She begrudgingly stopped her escape attempts. She told herself logically that she was probably being paraded to some noble to show as proof of rescue from the caravan. Or maybe she was being brought so they could regale what a pitiful tale it was. Perhaps the lord just wanted accolades; for her to publicly bow down and thank him for saving her from a life of terrible slavery. If it was only a short time that she'd have to play the fool and then she could be released, then so be it; she would go along.

She was surprised when, a few days later, she saw a gleaming frosty gray castle in the distance waving a banner with the symbol for 10 on it. She was slightly confused but none of the rest of the men seemed to be. Weren't they taking her to their home? They all wore the symbol for six. Wasn't she to be paraded through the streets as people exclaimed how noble and magnanimous their lord was, saving a wretch like herself?

But no, they arrived at the drawbridge and stopped at the lowered portcullis. The guards at the gate bowed to the black haired man- Byakuya Kuchiki she'd finally been able to learn- and in a moment a messenger ran from the gate deep into the town until she could no longer see him through the bars. They were admitted in and many of the lucky men went off to shop, however she continued to be escorted along with the lord all the way up to the steps of the castle. The guards eyed them cautiously as lord Kuchiki ascended the stairs in a fluid and confident movement. Rukia was just the opposite, she was unsure and afraid and practically herded up the stairs by his remaining men.

Inside the castle- the entry way of which she wasn't even in long enough to gawk at- Lord Kuchiki spoke a few words to a few different people and she was suddenly whisked away by several women. She attempted to talk to them and when that failed she found herself dragged into a steaming room with several basins and scraps of cloth and a sponge or two. When they suddenly tried to undress her, she started to fight tooth and nail. "Such a feisty child!" they exclaimed, and, "Oh quiet down, we don't like it any more than you do!" She suffered the humiliation of being scrubbed clean by others despite the fact that she kept insisting she could bathe herself_ only because_ if she did escape, she had no idea where she'd run to with no clothes. Finally, towards the end, a rather fine looking gown was brought in. Rukia thought it looked a bit too big for her, not to mention too costly.

"Here child, put this on."

Rukia scrambled away from the women rubbing her with towels and faced them with crossed arms, a stern look, and a stamp of her wet foot which resounded like a slap throughout the busy room.

"I'm not putting on a _single thing_ until someone tells me what's going on!"

"But you must!"

"Yes, we're to bring you to court!"

"Why?" Rukia demanded.

The women only looked at each other.

"Tell me, or you'll be presenting me naked," she sneered.

A short haired blond girl with a lovely dress embroidered with the symbol for 13 stepped forward gently and clasped her hands in front of her.

"The truth, my lady, is that we don't know anything either. Your coming was hasty and we were only just told we must get you ready for court as soon as possible."

Rukia eyed the woman cautiously and shifted her position slightly.

"This isn't your home, is it? How would an outsider know anything of the matter?"

The girl only smiled knowingly instead of taking offense. "My name is Kiyoune. My lord is visiting to learn the customs of judgement. He used to be a great warrior- I mean, he still _is_, of course- but unfortunately his health has taken a turn for the worse."

"Judgement?" Rukia's eyes widened.

"You've nothing to worry about, my lord is very kind."

"But judgement of what sort?"

The girl's face fell when she couldn't answer.

"And we're in the 10th Lord's House, aren't we? What of him? What about his temperament?"

The girl's face fell further and she averted her gaze.

"He is very wise and fair..."

Rukia scoffed. _Fair_. How was it fair to free her from a slave caravan only to bring her here to face completely unknown- what, charges?

Rukia sighed and nodded at the girl, turning and attempting to plan out how she would get dressed quickly in that many layers. She didn't think she'd ever worn so much clothing in her whole life, and when they brought out a lace-up corset her eyes bugged and she backed away.

"Oh, leave her be," Kiyoune said to the women attempting to corner her, "Can't you see the dress is already too big any way?"

To Rukia's relief she was spared the corset and the ladies finished their work of dressing her relatively quickly. She'd been ushered through door after door until she reached the grand hall where she now stood.

She blinked and tried not to jump as a fanfare was suddenly played. An obviously perturbed white haired boy waved off the musicians angrily as he stalked up to a throne. He was followed by an elegant looking man with longer white hair who actually bothered to acknowledge the guests as he entered the room.

"Lord Kuchiki," the angry one said, "Your presence here is certainly an honor but the issue which you've brought before me-"

"Actually, technically, I'll be making the ruling on this one," the taller man said merrily.

"Lord Hitsugaya. Lord Ukitake."

Rukia froze at the voice that came from behind her.

"I'm bringing this matter to you simply as a formality, you understand. So that you may inform the high magistrates of my doings."

Lord Hitsugaya leaned forward in his throne and fumed. "Excuse me but the royal family has entrusted me with the decisions that can't be brought before them. Do you dare-"

"Now now," Lord Ukitake held his hands up, attempting to calm the two, "we heard your request earlier and we've thought it over, haven't we? I, at least, am prepared to make a fair decision."

Rukia felt increasing fear as the men spoke. Was _she_ the cause of this much tension? And if so, why? Of course she had committed more than her share of petty crimes to get by, but she didn't see how those could have been traced back to her. And besides, since when was petty thievery a matter for the royal courts?

"Normally I'd say no to this absurd business," Hitsugaya growled.

"However," Ukitake rushed before tempers could flare again, "given the pre-existing circumstances I think it's just fine, don't you?" He smiled at the boy next to him who stared back rather flatly with a slight scowl.

"Being that she's related to Lady Hisana, we're going to allow you to bring her into your household."

Rukia felt her heart stop. Bring her into his household? Related? To who? She had no relatives, at least not as far as she knew.

People continued to talk and move around her; she heard none of it. The only thing she heard was Lord Kuchiki's simple command as he turned on his heel to go. "Come."

_But I don't want to_ she attempted to say. No words would come out. _Say it. Say something, you must!_

"My lord..." she tried.

"You're dismissed," Hitsugaya said leaning back in his throne and massaging his temples.

"Farewell Lady Kuchiki," Ukitake said raising a hand towards her.

"I don't want-"

"Come," Lord Kuchiki said again, this time from the doorway. She knew there would not be a third command. His voice was large and oppressing. It was, she knew, the sound of a cell door closing her in.


End file.
